Sergeant John Soap MacTavish
by OPL
Summary: The new guy in the 22nd S.A.S Regiment, Captain Price's squad. This is his story.   Following the story line of Call of Duty 4.
1. The Fucking New Guy

**LOCATED:**

**Sgt. John "Soap" MacTavish**

**S.A.S Training Compound, Credenhill, U.K.**

**22****nd**** S.A.S Regiment**

Sergeant John MacTavish grabbed the passenger side door handle of the rusting, '00 Chevrolet Express van. He stepped up and threw his duffle bag to the floor of the vehicle with a grunt. The driver barely glanced at him and nodded. MacTavish slammed the door of the van shut.

"Bout' a 30 minute drive" the driver said in a bored voice. MacTavish nodded, and leaned back against the worn seat. The driver turned the key, and MacTavish heard the old engine come to life with a roar. "I'll admit I was expecting the brass to send a nicer ride to come get me" he muttered. The driver said nothing, just stepped on the accelerator.

His companion offered no conversation, leaving MacTavish alone with his thoughts. This suited him fine; he was generally quiet by nature. He looked out the window, watching the English country-side roll by.

He didn't think of himself as a patriot, he just wanted to give back to the country that had treated him so well. He figured defending that country from all enemies, foreign and domestic, was a good way to do so.

He thought back to the day he had told his family he was joining the military. His father had taken the news with his usually stoic reserve; just nodding and asking him what branch he intended on joining and when he would be leaving. His mother had cried at first, but eventually accepted it. MacTavish was grateful things had gone so smoothly with his parents. Telling them had been one of his greatest worries since he had made the decision to enlist. His little brother, Tommy, had taken it harder. He loved Tommy, and they got along well. Tommy was 13 years old and looked up to his older brother. He attempted to mimic him at every chance he got. When MacTavish broke the news to his brother, Tommy became quiet and surly, not speaking to him for weeks on end. This upset John greatly, especially when his younger brother didn't even come down stairs to say goodbye on his last night home.

MacTavish sighed, and looked at his reflection in the side-mirror of the van. He was 22 years old, and looked a little younger than he was. He was clean shaven, with close cropped black hair, and piercing blue eyes. He glanced to his right at the driver, and then back at the green blur that was now what was outside his window. MacTavish decided he might as well get a little rest, and leaned back into his seat, letting the rocking of the van lull him into sleep.

MacTavish was awoken with a jolt as the driver slammed on the brakes. He opened his eyes and looked up to see a large metal gate topped with barbed wire opening outward. The van rolled past a small guard's cabin, into a large open area with several blue hangers surrounding it. The Chevrolet once again screeched to a halt.

"Hop out and head to the hanger on our right" the driver said in the same bored voice.

MacTavish nodded, grabbed his bag, opened the door of the van and jumped down onto the black asphalt. As soon as he shut the door, the van sped away, farther into the compound.

MacTavish slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to the large hanger. The small, white door set in the wall of the hanger was open, and he stepped inside. A man in combat fatigues, complete with Kevlar vest, approached MacTavish. The man had a full black beard, and was wearing a hat with the British flag on the front.

"Soap?"

MacTavish nodded.

"Good to see you mate. I'm Gaz. We're going to run through a quick basic weapons drill. Go grab a rifle from the table" Gaz said, pointing to two tables across the room.

MacTavish looked to his right and saw a gun range, with a raised observation point behind it. He walked up to the table and looked through a large window and saw racks upon racks of almost every weapon imaginable. He lowered his gaze and noticed a man in a black sweater with a laptop computer in front of him. The man nodded and MacTavish did the same. He looked down, threw his bag under the table, and quickly picked up a German made, Heckler & Koch G36C fully automatic rifle from the table.

"You know the drill, go to station one, and aim your rifle downrange." Gaz called from behind him.

He walked quickly over to the first station, and held the weapon in a ready position, with the index finger of his right hand on the safety.

Gaz spoke again from behind him. "I'm popping two targets. Shoot each one while aiming down your sights."

MacTavish shouldered the rifle, flicked the safety off, and put his right eye to the red dot sight. The first target came down from the ceiling of the firing range, and he quickly snapped up to it and squeezed the trigger, sending a burst of fire into the center ring. A buzzer announced the bullets taking the target down. He did the same for the second target that popped up from the floor of the range. _"Too easy…" _

"Lovely" Gaz said as the noise from the second buzzer came to an end.

"Now, shoot at the targets, while firing from the hip."

MacTavish lowered the rifle to his hip, and lightly placed his finger on the trigger. Three metal cut-outs of soldiers popped up down the range. MacTavish quickly fired three short bursts. The first two cut-outs dropped with the familiar buzzing, but on the third target his spray of bullets went a little high. "_Damn"_ he thought as he quickly adjusted and dropped the last target with a fourth burst.

"Now I'm going to block the targets with a sheet of plywood. I want you to shoot the targets through the wood".

MacTavish shouldered the rifle again, as a large sheet of wood popped up with a clang and a screech of metal. He used the rest of the clip, spraying bullets in a line through the wood. He was rewarded with the sound of two more buzzers going off.

"Is it possible to turn those damned things off?" MacTavish muttered, mostly to himself, as he ejected the spent clip and popped in another. He jumped slightly when Gaz chuckled.

"That's a no-can-do mate".

Gaz continued with the lesson.

"Bullets will penetrate thin, weak material like wood, plaster, and sheet metal. Now I'm gonna make the targets pop up one at a time. Shoot all of them as fast as you can".

MacTavish brought the G36 up to his shoulder once again, and took aim down the red dot sight. The metal cut-outs of soldiers began popping up. MacTavish quickly popped from target to target, firing in short, controlled bursts. He managed to drop every target the first time.

"Proper good job mate!" came Gaz's voice from behind.

MacTavish turned around, and looked up at Gaz standing on the raised platform. He pointed back towards the tables where MacTavish had picked the rifle up from.

"Now go get a sidearm from the armory".

MacTavish walked back over to the tables, where the man behind the computer slid an .USP .45 pistol out from under the window. He quickly shifted the G36 to his left hand, and scooped up the handgun. MacTavish turned around, and walked back towards observation, where Gaz was still standing.

"Remember mate," Gaz said as he approached, "switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading.

"Using your knife is even faster than switching to your pistol." Gaz said his voice deadly serious.

MacTavish nodded, set the rifle on a wooden table in front of the observation post, tucked the .USP into his belt, and pulled his standard issue tactical knife from its sheath on his right hip.

"Knife the watermelon".

MacTavish looked at the melon on the wooden table, sitting next to the G36. He hesitantly looked back up at Gaz, who met his gaze and said nothing. MacTavish quickly looked back down at the melon and sliced his knife through the air with all his strength, cutting the melon cleanly in two.

Gaz chuckled. "Nice, your fruit killing skills are remarkable"! He looked back down at MacTavish. "Soap, eh?"

MacTavish shrugged. "That's what they've called me since about a month after I enlisted. I'd rather not get into details." he said with a small smile, remembering an incident back in basic training.

Gaz nodded. "If you say so. Soap it is from now on mate." He pointed towards the hanger door. "Captain Price wants to see you. He's two hangers over to the right."

"Alright, nice training session." Soap said. "Felt like I was back in basic" he muttered.

Gaz just laughed. "Just trying to assess your skills. I'll see you soon; word is you're being put into Price's own squad. I'm his Leftenant. Also, don't worry about your bag, I'll run it by the barracks on my way out".

Soap nodded, and picked up the G36 from the table. He turned, and walked across the room past a vending machine and out the hanger door into the sunlight.


	2. Making Friends

LOCATED:

**SERGEANT JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH**

**S.A.S Training Compound, Credenhill, U.K. **

**22nd S.A.S Regiment**

**

* * *

**

Soap turned right, and walked past a large orange trailer across the black asphalt, thinking about his training session. He decided that Gaz was a good man, and was glad he would be in the same squad his him. He felt certain that the man would have his back.

Soap heard the sound of helicopters beating the air, and looked up in time to see two large transport copters fly overhead. He glanced to his left, from which he had heard gunfire. He saw five or six men running through a series of obstacles around a large gray cement building. One of the infamous S.A.S 'kill houses'. He thought back to basic training, and was glad he wouldn't be running one of those again anytime soon.

He walked past two men working on a small white car. One of the men had flaming red hair, and looked up as Soap walked by. He heard "F.N.G" muttered as he walked past the vehicle. The red haired man nudged his companion, who also looked up and scowled at the sight of Soap. Soap sighed; he had experienced this before, back when his old CO had selected him for basic sniper training. The older students had teased and bothered him, before he earned their respect with his sharp shooting.

Soap looked up and saw a large group of men running what looked like a grueling obstacle course. He sighed and approached a large blue hanger, the sliding metal door slightly open.

As he approached, the door slid back on rusty hinges, revealing a group of men in full combat gear, holding an assortment of weapons. The men stepped back to look at him, and what appeared to be the officer in charge stepped forward. The man wore a gas mask that was pushed up onto his head revealing a harsh face that sported a black beard, flecked with gray. The man studied him intensely. Soap rubbed his free hand through his dark hair nervously.

One of the other men off to the side of the officer spoke in a quiet voice.

"It's the F.N.G, sir."

Another man slung his machine gun onto his back, and pulled off his hood and mask. He removed a cigarette from his breast pocket, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a cheap Bic lighter. He took a drag on the smoke before speaking.

"Go easy on him sir, it's his first day in the regiment."

The officer smiled grimly.

"Right, what the hell kind a name is Soap, eh? How the hell'd a muppet like you pass selection?"

The man turned suddenly, and gestured over his shoulder for Soap to follow. The other S.A.S men parted ranks, and let Soap walk in between them, behind the officer.

The man led him to a small table, where various maps and blueprints were spread out. He pushed a map aside, and pulled a clipboard with Soap's information attached on it. He spoke again.

"I'm Captain Price. You've been assigned to my squad. There are six other members of this squad, including myself. Soon, we will be entering a combat situation and we need to know that we can rely on you when the action starts."

Price looked him over again. "Where you from Soap?"

Soap shifted his weight back and forth between his feet.

"The country-side, just outside of Oxford, sir."

Price digested this information.

"Some sort of manor, or maybe an estate, eh?"

Soap nodded. "Yes, sir. My father is a doctor in London, and he built an estate out in the country for my mother."

Price's expression didn't change.

"Well, Soap. This isn't the Oxford country-side. Welcome to the 22nd S.A.S. Standby around here for a bit while I look a few things over."

Price walked away with Soap's file, towards a chair in the corner of the large room, behind a bank of television sets. As far as Soap could tell, all he was doing was reading his file.

Soap turned around to survey the rest of the room.

The three other men had formed a small circle, and were smoking and talking quietly. On the far right side of the room was a tall platform, with a metal ladder leading up to the top and a tough looking cable dropping down to the floor on the far side of the platform. In front of the platform was some sort of wooden structure. From his vantage point, Soap thought it looked like some sort of maze. _"Aww Christ. First they have me go back through basic, now this?"_

He was awakened from his thoughts by the sharp bark of Price's voice from behind.

"Soap! It's your turn for the CQB test. Climb the ladder and Sergeant Lovejoy will explain what you need to do. Everyone else, head to observation."

Soap watched as the three other men walked across the room, and joined Captain Price behind the television bank. Price began turning each television set on. One of the men gestured for Soap to get up the ladder. Soap jogged over, and began climbing; the metal rungs were cold against his hands. As he reached the top, a gloved hand came from over the edge. He grasped it gratefully and was helped up.

"Ello' mate, I'm Dan. Dan Lovejoy. Most of the lads call me Sarge, or Love. I don't give a hoot either way."

Lovejoy was chubby, to say the least. He was dressed in the same black combat uniform as the men on the ground, but was wearing no mask. His round face was rimmed with beads of sweat. He had light brown hair that stuck up in the front. Soap could only think of one word to describe him: jolly.

"I'm Soap" he said, offering a hand.

Lovejoy grasped the hand firmly and pumped it up and down. "Welcome aboard Soap. For this test, you'll have to run this cargo ship mock-up solo, in less than 60 seconds. It pertains to our next assignment, and Cap'n Price likes to keep us on our toes."

Soap nodded.

"Head over to those crates there, grab an MP5, and some flash bangs" Lovejoy said as he fussily relieved Soap of his G36. "Also, get this on you, mate. It'll hold those bangers and your ammo."

He threw a heavy Kevlar vest, which Soap caught against his chest. He slid the vest over his head, and pulled the straps tight.

Gingerly, Soap walked across the platform over to the large metal box Lovejoy had indicated. He grabbed the MP5 sub machine gun, and tucked two extra ammo clips into pouches on the vest. Then he picked up four flash bangs and tucked them into the remaining pouches.

Lovejoy waddled up behind him.

"Alright, mate. It's a basic breach and clear. Just remember your training. Also, as a quick side note, Gaz holds our current squadron record at 19 seconds. The speed of that lad… I'll tell ya. Anyway, good luck, and just slide down the rope when you're ready" he said, pointing at the cable Soap had noticed from the ground.

Soap quickly checked the straps on his vest one more time and flicked the safety off on the MP5. His head was full of training exercises he had drilled for months on end when he first joined.

He grasped the rope firmly, trying not to pay attention to Price watching him intently from the ground.

Soap took a deep breath, and then pushed off the platform hard. He swung down the rope, and almost as soon as he hit the concrete floor had the MP5 up and was squeezing the trigger, sending a hail of fire at three familiar metal cut-outs of soldiers in the first room. He heard Price's voice, magnified by some sort of sound system.

"Go, go go! Hit the targets!"

Soap got out of his half crouch quickly, and sprinted to his right, heading for the door into the 'ship'.

"Position two, go!"

He took a hard right and descended three stairs as another target popped up. Soap let off a quick burst from the hip, earning another annoying buzz from above. _"Not this again…"_

He jumped the remaining stairs and heard Price commanding him to toss a flash bang through the door across the hall. He quickly ripped a flash bang out of a pouch on the vest and tossed it through the opening. As it exploded, Soap rounded the corner with the MP5 up and ready.

"Hit the targets!" Price's magnified voice yelled.

Soap let off another two quick bursts, scoring headshots on both targets.

He took a hard left and passed through another door way into a small room. He heard a screech of metal as two more targets popped up on either side of him.

"Position five, hit the targets!"

Soap swung the gun in a wide sweep of the room, keeping his finger on the trigger the whole time. He quickly dropped the empty clip from the gun, and slid another in.

"Flash bang, through the door on position six!"

He quickly pulled another grenade and tossed it into the final room. As soon as he heard the explosion, he whipped around the corner and dropped both targets almost instantaneously. Soap looked to his right, and saw the exit door way which he quickly ran out of.

"Sprint to the finish!"

Breathing heavily, Soap ran back to the bottom of the ladder.

"20.2 seconds. Not bad, but I've seen better" came Price's final remark.

Soap looked up from panting and leaning on the ladder to see one of the S.A.S men beckoning him to come over. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead, and walked over to the other men.

Price set down a small silver microphone, and spoke without preamble.

"Gentlemen, the cargo-ship mission is ago. Get yourselves sorted out. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed."

Soap and the others turned away, and walked from the hanger. Soap glanced back, and saw Price press the reply button on the video of his run of the ship.

"Ay mate, wait up!"

He turned around to see Lovejoy huffing and puffing up behind him.

"Excellent work Soap, my boy. Second best time in the squad."

Soap smiled. "Thanks mate."

"Wad 'ya say we run that MP5 by the armory, then head over to the mess hall for something to eat? We got about 6 hours before we need to be at helicopter pad two."

Soap nodded, gratefully.

"That'd be great, I'm starved."

Soap and his new found friend headed over to the first hanger to drop off the gun.

* * *

Lovejoy and Soap sat down at a table with the rest of Price's squad.

"All you fellas met Soap?" Lovejoy asked

The squad all nodded greetings to him.

"Let's see here…" Lovejoy mused

"You know Gaz, of course. This scruffy lad here is Private Wallcroft." Lovejoy pointed to the soldier directly across from Soap, on Gaz's left. He was young looking, no older than 20, with shaggy brown hair. "That grizzled ol' boy there is Barton. He's been in the service longer than any of us care to remember. Even longer than the old Cap'n." Lovejoy said, pointing to a gray haired corporal. "Next is Private Arem, he's a good lad, always gets his two-cents in though. Drives the Cap'n up the wall." Lovejoy chuckled, nodding at a soldier on the far end of the table with blond hair, cut short. Arem smiled at Soap and nodded. "Good to have you with us, mate." he said.

"An', that's about it. Get to know these lads; they'll be watching your back for the next couple weeks." Lovejoy winked.

Gaz stood up.

"I'm gonna catch some sleep before we have to move. You boys should do the same. Stop by the armory on the way to pad two. Remember, silenced weapons only. This is a stealth mission. See you all soon."

The rest of the squad stood up, and walked out of the mess hall. Soap fully intended on taking a quick nap, he was tired from the day's events.


	3. Top Deck, Clear

**AN: All reviews are welcome. I want to know what I'm doing well, and where I could use improvement. Thank you to the current reviews, I'll have the next chapter up by Friday night, (10/7/10). Also, I'll be updating my profile with a projects section, listing upcoming projects. Hope to hear from you, -OPL**

**

* * *

**

**LOCATED:**

**SERGEANT JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH**

**The Bering Strait**

**22****nd**** S.A.S, Bravo Team**

**

* * *

**

Soap stepped off the Blackhawk helicopter onto the icy ground. He stopped for a moment, and looked around interestedly at the barren land spread out before him. _"How could someone live here?"_

Bravo Team had two scheduled stops before they reached the Bering Strait and their primary objective, an Estonian Freighter ship. Their first stop had been at a small, temporary fueling station in Ontario, Canada. They now stopped at an even smaller S.A.S compound on an island near Toksook Bay, Alaska. Captain Price was going to brief his team at the compound, then they were off to intercept the ship.

Soap was interrupted from his thoughts by a hard shove from behind from Corporal Barton.

"Keep moving F.N.G."

Soap muttered an apology, slung his bag over his shoulder, and began walking to the small cement building that was going to serve as the team's briefing room. Private Arem caught up to him.

"You been in combat before Soap?"

"Just once" Soap replied, thinking back to the day.

* * *

Before he joined Bravo Team and the 22nd Regiment, Soap had been stationed with the Green Berets, in Ethiopia. He had been part of a small task force attempting to help out the near-starved civilians of a small village. The United States had just pushed a group of terrorists from the area, and many civilians were sick or injured, and the Berets were mopping up. Soap and a friend of his who enlisted with him had been standing guard, at a small supply dump.

"You hear something?" Mark Chadwell muttered to him.

"Nope, nothing. Why?"

Chadwell shrugged.

"Thought I heard a car or something… Shit! Get down!"

Mark tackled Soap to the ground as a large transport truck came crashing through the hut in front of them. Chadwell was immediately on his feet, with his MP5 trained on the hostile vehicle. Soap heard him open up on the enemy, and heard the chattering of their AK-47s returning fire. Soap rolled onto his knees and pulled his C8 carbine into firing position. Before he could get a shot off, the dirt around him was torn up from an enemy machine gunner.

"C'mon, we need to get outta here!" Chadwell grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him along, back towards their jeep.

"Get on the radio and call in for back up!" Mark screamed

Soap fumbled with the radio for a moment, while Mark covered him.

"Homebase, this is Unit 3-4, at the supply dump half a click east of your position. We are under heavy enemy fire, and are requesting reinforcements immediately!"

"Copy that 3-4, Units 5 and 6 are-"

The radio then took a direct hit from an enemy bullet, smashing through the main panel and sending an electric shock up Soap's arm. He fell back onto the ground at Chadwell's feet.

"Soap! Shit! C'mon, we're bugging out!" He pulled Soap roughly to his feet, and helped him into the back of the jeep. Mark passed out of Soap's line of vision. Behind him, he heard a gurgling sound along with several metallic "pings" of bullets hitting the side of the jeep. Soap rolled onto his side and saw Mark on the ground, clutching at his throat while it blood spewed into the air from between his fingers. Marks face was deathly white, and he reached out to Soap and took one last gasp before he stopped struggling and rolled onto his side. A large pool of dark blood formed around his head.

"No! Mark!"

Enraged, Soap jumped from the jeep, brought his carbine up, and squeezed the trigger, sending his whole clip towards the enemy within seconds. He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and fell back, hitting his head on the side of the jeep.

* * *

"I woke up at the infirmary at the base." Soap finished, sighing.

"So, no confirmed kills?" Arem asked.

"Nope."

"Well, I'm sorry about your friend, mate."

"Don't worry about it, it was a long time ago" Soap said as he sat down at a small wooden table.

The lights in the room went off as the final team members sat down around the table, all looking up to the front of the room where Price was standing. The captain flicked a projector on, which shot a diagram of the cargo ship onto the wall behind him.

"Bravo Team, the Intel on this op comes from our informant in Russia. The package is aboard a medium sized freighter, Estonian registration number 52775."

Price paused to light a cigar. The glow of his match illuminated his face briefly, and then he waved it out and dropped it to the ground. He took a puff on the cigar before speaking.

"There is a small crew, and a security detail on board. Keep it simple, we get the package, and get out."

Gaz raised his hand.

"Rules of engagement, sir?"

Price smiled.

"Crew expendable."

"Alright lads, the birds filled up, let's do this." Price flicked off the projector.

"Leave everything here except weapons, ammo, and basic medical supplies. We'll stop here on the return trip. Make sure your silencers are attached."

The team walked back out into the cold, and climbed aboard the waiting helicopter, once again.

* * *

Soap checked over his equipment once more, and then looked up to see Price taking a puff on his cigar. The pilot had just pointed the freighter out to the team, but Soap could hardly see it through the heavy downpour.

"30 seconds, going dark." came the pilot's voice over the radio.

The helicopter circled around to the back of the ship, where it stabilized. Price pulled his gas mask over his face. Soap looked to his left and saw Gaz tightening the straps of his helmet and Barton pulling a water repellent hood over his mask. Soap pulled his own mask down, and then pulled his hood up over it. Price threw the butt of his cigar into the stormy waters. Arem dropped the cable down to the deck of the ship. Price slid down it, followed by Arem. Soap grabbed a hold of it, and roped down to the deck of the ship. He raised his silenced MP5, and looked through the window into the ships control room.

"Weapons free."

Soap pulled the trigger and let loose a burst of fire through the window, into a crew member's chest, knocking him backward into the control panel of the ship where he collapsed and laid still, blood soaking the front of his green jacket.

"Bridge secured, hold your fire."

"Gaz, stay in the chopper with the rest of the team until we secure the deck" Price said over the radio.

"Roger that."

Price turned and kicked open the metal door to the control room.

Arem entered first, his MP5 raised and ready.

"Soap, take point" Price said.

Soap nodded and walked into the room, taking a quick right and descending a flight of metal stairs.

"Stairs clear."

He looked around the corner of the doorway, and watched as a man stumbled out into the dimly lit hallway, holding a bottle of some sort of alcohol, singing softly to himself.

"I got him" Arem said as he stepped forward and raised his gun.

The man was hit in the chest with a salvo of bullets and collapsed, dropping the bottle. Soap walked quickly down the hallway, weapon raised, still attempting to repress the look on the man's face up in the control room as he had the life snuffed out of him by Soap's bullets.

He took a quick right, and walked past a small kitchen into an even smaller room with bunk beds and a tiny television. Two men were fast asleep in the beds. Soap raised his gun, and then hesitated. Suddenly, the report of two pistol shots came from the doorway on his left, which led back into the hallway. The sleeping men both grunted as blood sprayed up from their head's, onto the mattress.

"Good night" came Price's voice over the radio.

Price spoke again.

"Crew quarters clear. Move up."

The three of them moved out onto the main deck, back into the torrent of rain. The voice of the pilot sounded again.

"Forward decks clear, green light on alpha, go."

The helicopter circled overhead, and the cable came down again. Gaz, Barton, Wallcroft, and Lovejoy dropped down onto the deck near the rest of the team.

"Good to see you again, mates." Lovejoy said in an overly happy voice.

"Can it Sarge. Team, fan out and move up. Three meter spread." was Price's curt reply.

Soap walked forward through the rain, weaving in and out of large metal crates that were strapped down to the deck of the ship. He looked to his left and saw Gaz, and on his right he saw Private Arem. Soap noticed the pinpoints of two flashlights up ahead of the team, going back and forth on a large, raised platform.

Gaz spoke.

"I got two on the platform."

"I see 'em, clear to engage." Price said.

Soap heard the quiet thumps of Gaz's suppressed MP5 and watched the two pinpoints of light disappear.

"Tango down" Gaz said in a monotone.

A few seconds silence…

"Target neutralized."

The team moved up to the other end of the ship. Soap looked up and saw movement in the windows of the tower above him. He spoke into the radio.

"We've got company."

He quickly crouched down behind a wooden crate and looked through the iron sights of his MP5 up at the windows. Before the team could get off a shot, Price called in backup.

"Hammer 2-4, we got tangos on the second floor."

"Copy that, engaging."

The Blackhawk stabilized in front of the windows. Soap watched in awe as the choppers minigun opened fire on the men inside. A loud clatter reached Soap's ears from the shell casings hitting the metal deck of the ship.

"All clear. Bravo six, Hammer's at bingo fuel, we're bugging out. Big Bird will be on station for evac in ten."

"Copy that Hammer."

The team moved up underneath the windows as Price gave his orders.

"Wallcroft, Arem, Lovejoy, cover our six, the rest of you, on me."

Lovejoy's voice crackled in Soap's ear.

"Solid copy Cap'n, coverin' the team's six."

Soap followed Price, Gaz and Barton up to another metal door.

"Gaz, do it."

Gaz slung his MP5 on his back and pulled a Winchester 1200 shotgun in one fluid motion. He turned back to Barton.

"I like to keep this for close encounters."

Barton chuckled.

"Too right, mate."

Gaz kicked the door down and entered cautiously, the rest of the team close behind.

Barton sounded off.

"Clear left."

Soap checked the right corner, and then spoke.

"Clear right."

Price nodded.

"Hallway clear."

Price quickly took stock of the situation. Seeming to make up his mind, he spoke.

"Down the stairs, go."

Soap took point, and quickly went down another flight of stairs, deeper into the belly of the cargo ship.


End file.
